The Pumpkin King
by Lip Balm
Summary: [Rated for language. Will be updated VERY slowly.] A girl from Christmas Town happens to see a certain someone opening the Pumpkin Halloween door...
1. Chapter One

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W00t. I love TIM BURTON. [Bows down to his greatness]

I actually have a list of people that I admire, but I won't get into that..just because you'll get so bored, you'll forget to read my story. :]

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It's not like I wanted to meet him. No, I didn't want to meet him at all, that dreadful Pumpkin King. He's a damn horrible liar, and he has a face so pale that I can practically feel that _freezing _coldness coming from that skull. That pasty white skull with the gaping, dark eyes and the spreading, stitched smile…like a snowman jack-o-lantern. 

People in Christmas town aren't always happy, you know. Whoever made up that stack of crap was brainwashed by dear Santa himself. No, Christmas time wasn't always a time of festivity and fun. Only when the last week of December rolls around, is it when spoiled brats run in circles, tugging on pant legs and pointing towards gifts that they just _have _to have. I've never wanted anything from Christmas town. I wish there wasn't so little it could offer.

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I know where it is. That ring of hollowed out trees amid the forests and with the strange doors on them. The   
Pumpkin door is bolted shut, Santa's elves had done it, with a board of wood and two long, silver nails. As if the picture itself were a demon. I think that only Santa, his trusted elves and I know where that secret circle of treasure is, and I'm pretty sure that no one else has heard it before. I mean, they all tried to forget. But why forget when it will only repeat? And by God, would it repeat.

I heard Santa talking about it before. His exaggerated tale to the horrible, Halloween world, where he single handedly beat a horrid looking bag man made of colorful worms, by tugging at his white beard and shouting _Ho ho ho._ He's only talked about it once, I think, and I just happened to be lucky enough to 'accidentally' lean against the keyhole and stand there stiff for ten minutes. Man, was that old crab nervous. He kept stuttering and acting as if a monster were right behind him, snatching away at his pride and fortune. _Yes, his hat. _Man, he loved that thing.

It's easy to find the Circle o' Holidays, just as easy as it is to get lost. I was running in the peppermint forest behind my house, trying to look for that damned ball I received for last Christmas. I was only eight back then, and didn't know the way home.

I swear, some screwball put a curse on the ball so that it kept on rolling and dropping from my hands. And so I kept chasing it, I knew mum would give me a great beating if I lost any of my toys. And soon, I lost my way and had no idea where I was going. The ball was gone, but I did find that little ring of colored doors, and I managed to scrape up a few hours before Pumpernickle, my incredibly short, fat, neighbor came to find me. I tried to tell him, but that damned circle of colored doors was gone, making me feel like a fool. 

But I always managed to find it at any other time, anyhow. 

The trick is: To have no idea where you're going. Just get lost, and wander around for a bit, and you'll find it for sure. 

I've entered into Easter's world before, you know. Easter is quite like Christmas though, only with more eggs, less eggnog and more grass and less wreaths. And there was that obese rabbit, afraid of his own whiskers…Sounded a lot like Santa to me. 

And I've been to St. Patrick's day, where short men with red hair tried to mob me and smother me with clovers. Perhaps it was marijuana. Most holiday worlds were not pretty, I noted. But I decided that Halloween would be the worst. Why else would the door be bolted?

And just like every other weekend, I found myself lost and wandering in those peppermint woods again, and it only took a couple of minutes before I found the ring of holiday trees. This time, the trees were coated with glistening, white snow…I wish I'd brought my coat. I sat in the middle, choosing which horrid day I could enter into this time, when I heard the small _clang _of a pin dropping. Or a nail..

I turned around and saw the nails falling from the boards, and onto the ground, each with the familiar _clang. _And then the boards all fell, landing in a heap of wood at the base of the tree. I got up quickly, hiding behind St. Patrick's Day, peering from underneath a branch. The Pumpkin door swung open slowly, the hinges squeaking as if it had not been opened in the longest time.

And out came a spidery, long legged, clad in black creature. With a round, skull face and a long, stitched smile. I swear, icicles dropped from the tree as he shut it, and I don't think it was from the ever so gentle way that he shut the door behind him. 

"Damn," I muttered. 

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Thanks for reading and have a nice day. 


	2. Chapter Two

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Woo. Dedicated to me dear friend Sam, who threatened me with every weapon ever made in the history of weaponry to update this chapter. She also threatened to take Johnny away from me. Ain't she a peach. ;]

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I quickly found my hiding place, shuffling myself in the snow to conceal myself perfectly from the _skull man_, taking cover from behind a wiry tree. I don't know how he did it, because he doesn't have eyes, first of all, but he spotted me. And by god, was his voice was a surprise. It wasn't a sour, evil voice that I had imagined, but a low, kindly voice that was sickly sweet and resembled a voice of someone everyone knew and "loved". It was Santa's. 

"You can come out," He said. Four words that sounded so warm and inviting. Something a witch would say to lure a child into a pot of boiling water.

"Who are you?" I asked boldly, peeping my head from the trunk of the wiry tree, a place that I had first thought to be the perfect hiding place. Feeling foolish, I added a few words. "you damned bone man.." 

"Some call me that," He responded casually, swinging around a tired looking hammer. Something he must have used to get the pumpkin door open. "Others call me The Pumpkin King. But here, I'm just Jack Skellington."

"Jack Skellington, thank you for clearing that up, must be going now.." 

"Wait…" He said. I turned around, peering over my left shoulder. "You can help me." 

"With?" I asked, adrenaline already pumping through my body for a quick run off. I was sweating in the cold weather, beads of perspiration crawling down my back. My tongue felt swollen and numb, as if I had let it stick to the sides of my mouth. "I'm n-not exactly in the time for that, J-Jack Skellington. Mr. Skellington. Mr. King. Whatever. I have to run along now, m-my parents would be worried and they're not very keen on meeting strangers that walk out of trees and ask for help…"

I stopped blabbering. I tend to do that when I'm approached by a tall, skinny man made of bones and had two hollow holes for eyes. 

"Halloween town is in great danger."

"Oh yes, now I'll help you. Especially since I don't know who the hell you are, what the hell is Halloween Town..and..in fact, I'll just leave now. Go ask Heartsville." I pointed towards the Valentines door. 

He paused for a moment, frowning, "What's your name?" 

"Lynn… Clause," I replied reluctantly. And for good reason too, because his eyes, or sockets…widened and a small smile appeared on his face. 

"You mean, you know Sandy Claws?"

"Unfortunately," I said, dragging out the word like a nubbed cigarette, "He's my dad." 

"What does that mean," He muttered to himself, tapping long, skinny skeleton fingers on his head. I took one backwards glance at him and ran off, leaving him in the dust, or snow, if you will. Little did I know that I would be meeting him again very soon. 

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On the way back home, I noticed that my red and white striped candy cane sweater was torn in about three different places. _Damn. I have officially decided that the world hates me. _Mom had spent a rather long time on this sweater, and she happened to be the best knitter in town. _Damn sweater. Damn town. _

"Damn branches," I muttered as I stepped through the door and into the overwhelmingly hot sauna of a house. 

Mom, or Missus Santa Clause as she was most known by, sat in a small, creaky rocking chair near the fire place, doing the thing that she did best. **Being lazy. **She was knitting another scarf, a blue one with yellow stars in the middle. 

"Lynn, honey," She asked when I came near to the living room. "What happened to your sweater?"

I paused, reciting the well rehearsed lines in my head. "Well, I was heading to the market looking for some sanitary napkins with I ran into this thorn bush because I was looking at this handsome fellow across the street. I think you know him, his name is Fred Georgeson." _Fred Georgeson, by the way, is a stout man of 25 and he enjoys collecting buttons and pretending that he isn't balding. _I sighed before continuing. "And then I ripped my sweater. Anyway, back to the sanitary napkins. I had these horrible cramps, mom.."

"Lynn, that will be enough." Santa said sternly, mouth open in shock and disgust, a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth. 

"Yes, father," I said, stifling a laugh. I paused and then began to pursue a sensitive subject. "D'you happen to know a Jack Skellington?"

Santa's spoon went flying out of his hand and into his lap, but he was unmoved, eyes frozen into tiny fish bowls. I could tell that the name definitely rung a bell. Maybe two bells. Okay, five, at least. **Anyway, all the people in Christmas town..their names were like, Mary Christmas, or Ivan Happyface. **Nothing like Jack Skellington.

"Is there a reason for this?"

I shrugged faintly and then began to leave the living room, away from my father, away from my mother, away from the stifling hair that smelled as if it were Lysol gingerbread. 

"Maybe the damn bone man is good for the poor bugger," I said slowly, hugging a pillow to my chest in my room. I remembered the look of fear on Santa's face when I even mentioned Jack Skellington. _Good for him? Hah! Good for me! I want to see him wet his pants. Beef-witted coward, Santa is! _

"I ought to go march straight into that forest, drag Jack Skellington over to this house for some tea and crackers, or something. I want that bone man to see Santa Clause and make friends." I laughed softly. "That's it. I'm going to go straight back into that forest and find Mr. Skellington and bring him right over here to speak with Santa. He'll be delighted, I know. Right this instant, I'm going to go straight into that forest.."

I stared at the door, and then at my legs, begging them to move. However, I was a coward myself. I couldn't bring myself to go to the door, sneak down the stairs and get Jack Skellington. I couldn't. I was afraid of that skeleton man. That horrible, putrid, icy man who..

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Ding Dong. 

I realize now that I didn't have to even get Jack Skellington. He came to us. **Fate was just my best friend. ** I heard the crash of something hitting the floor, probably a soup bowl, and then a terrible roar. 

And despite of my cowerings, I touched my face and found that my lips were stretched into a small, but very sure, smile.

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Sorry sorry sorry for the delay! Review please! 

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